


Vision Lost

by Skeren



Category: Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Minor Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-23
Updated: 2016-02-23
Packaged: 2018-05-22 19:24:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6091528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skeren/pseuds/Skeren
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zack isn't where he was in canon when Nibelheim went down. Because of this, things go a little... differently.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Turning Left

**Author's Note:**

> This was written in 2007 with the last chapter written in 2008. Said last chapter never got posted previous to this posting.

He couldn't believe he'd been ordered away from the town for this. For this! Shaking his head, he picked his way down through the trees. It had just been a rumor, but Seph had cited that it was more practical to send one SOLDIER than their entire unit of troopers up the mountain after a dragon, since the villagers weren't exactly about to risk it with military in town. True, there had been a dragon, but the thing had just been a baby, small and easily defeated. 

It had taken way too long to track it down was all, he didn't mind so much outside that but it had taken all day, and into the night once he'd caught the trail that he had followed. Now, he was finally almost back from the errand, which he'd started that _morning_.

He must have gotten far too used to Midgar and it's bright lights. The sight of stars alone had caught him off guard the first few nights, but he should have realized the significance of the light before he was on a ridge and could see…

The flames were licking up along the streets and he was almost close enough to hear them.

He had to find out what was going on. He had to _help_. He could have been used there, gotten a water materia out of the gear and use it like their troopers couldn't. It begged the question of where Seph was, really. The man always was too ambitious, stretching himself too far. He was likely still in the basement of the damn mansion. 

Sliding down the steeper mountain incline instead of taking the way he'd gone up, pebbles hailed down ahead of him, kicking up dust that made him more alert to the little small shifts in balance he'd need to keep stable on the bluff. The crouch of his position ensured he didn't end up tumbling but he still needed the hand that skated along the smoothed streak he was leaving behind him to keep his balance.

If he was a different man, that likely would have given him some severe friction burns. He was a SOLDIER though, and they could take more than the standard level of punishment. It meant he could go faster and _get there_. But it also meant that he had better eyesight, and he knew that streak of silver anywhere, even through the kicked up dirt. The man was distinctive, always had been, and he'd been with him through enough battles that he knew that reflected haze.

Why was he going away from the town?

"Seph! What happened?" He braced his feet as he hit bottom and darted towards the man, wanting to catch up, wheel him around to go back the way he was coming from, something. It was only luck that had him ducking the attack that swished past him… or the man had been trying to give him a warning to stop him asking. Either way, it was enough to alert him that something was seriously wrong. "Seph?!"

"Do not concern yourself with me." It was a murmur, and Seph glanced sideways with an odd smile. He was already bringing the Buster sword to bear in case the taller man did another attack, but that look made having something to defend himself with seem even more urgent. "Go on." Seph gestured back towards the town in a slow sweep of his hand. "Try to save the town."

"Seph…" He paused, hesitating against doing as he was told. It wasn't that he _didn't_ want to help, but the longer he looked, the more he realized that anything he might have been able to do wouldn't be enough to save people. At best he'd be able to stop the forest from lighting up too. A short delay was, unfortunately, not going to change anything. "Seph, what's going on?"

"History." And then Seph was turning to walk away from him, and that didn't tell him anything. All it did was chill him to the core.

"No, Seph, Seph what's going on? What happened to the town? Why are you leaving them like that?" _How did they get that way while you were there?_

He must have made some aborted action towards him, because the next thing he was aware of was the fact he was blocking a slender blade and trying not to go down as the loose stone shifted under his feet. "They deserve it." Another strike fell, and he had to retaliate. Zack knew he couldn't hold on to this kind of defense for long, not with Seph on the other end of it. 

But… Deserve it? What could those people have done to make him want to leave them all to die? "Seph no." He moved into a lunge, his hesitance only having served to strain his arms in too close blocks as he was driven sideways into the trees. He took advantage of them and tried to get under the strike, to disarm the other man. The attack was blocked with a hard sideways strike.

"Zack." The word was soft, silky with anger, and it was almost low enough he missed it. The force put behind the blow when he twitched to hear drove him viciously into a tree. 

_No…_ He tried to force his way back to his feet as the dark oblivion of unconsciousness loomed behind his eyes. He couldn't afford it, not until he knew what was going on. Or tried to help stop the burning, at least tried… 

"Don't be a traitor."

A flare of magic ensured that was the last thing being awake was going to offer.


	2. Ascending

He'd been injured. It was nothing debilitating, and he knew that Zack hadn't been intending the injury, that the man had only been playing defense, but he'd still drawn blood. He wasn't sure what to make of that. It was very rarely that he ever bled.

He had no fear of being followed due to his delay, as any others that came after him would be no more a match than the man he had already safely neutralized and left to sleep. Fool confused man. He was sure he'd see things as they should be eventually, and he would be grateful that he hadn't been killed this night at that time. That he had been blinded before his sight could change in an unfavorable way by a lack of understanding.

But, he was no priority now, and he could hear his mother whispering along the edges of his mind, her affection sweet but intangible. Once he found her, it would clarify, he was sure, and she would be happy to see him in turn. She assured him of that with the very thought, and a slow smile crossed his lips.

Of course, his musings did not go uninterrupted. Unfortunate as it was, there were still those who thought they could match him. They would learn, as would all others, and soon all would be as it should be. First, however, he needed to collect mother, and only then could he go, could he satisfy such a clear debt to her, to them.

If he were feeling generous, he would still not give the man any credit for his approach. It was fast and loud, all the things that would give him away without a need for it. Incoherent rage did nothing but pinpoint position. Men like him died quickly, without notice. Not even the screams would hold long in the mind of the enemy to be recalled.

He was certain the man must have been waiting for him, since he didn't come from behind. From the reactor perhaps? Possibly. He did not last long enough to be asked.

A flick of his blade brought the man to ground, the angry scream cutting off with a nearly soundless burble as his momentum was interrupted enough to send the man reeling backward and down. The look on his face slid to shock even as he fell. 

The fool should not have believed he had a chance. 

He didn't wait to see if the man got up again, instead turning on his heel to continue up the path, up the mountain towards where his mother awaited him. Of course there were more delays. 

Always more delays. 

When things most needed done was when they tended to be most troublesome, and the scream of a mourning human reached his ears just as he started to cross one of the bridges that led to the reactor. He paused, hearing nothing more for a moment, and tried to decide if he should wait and deal with the inconvenience now instead of whenever it might catch up to him. 

He decided on the latter, while in the end, he might have been less annoyed with the former. Screaming, screaming just as much as the man before her, she even tried to attack him the same way, going so far in her mimicry as to use the same blade. He recognized her, of course. The little guide girl. 

He noted easily the tears in her eyes, and his smile grew. "You are in my way." He made sure to meet those eyes, to watch them widen before he struck.

He would give her the mercy of possibility. He didn't give her a blow that would kill her instantly. The cut was enough she could easily bleed away, and she could not get up to chase him, but if she was fortunate, then perhaps she might even live. He didn't linger to check on her, stepping carefully over the form struggling for breath as he pushed open the doors to enter the reactor. There were stairs ahead of him, but that was perfectly well. 

Mother would wait until he could get to her. Smiling quietly, he ascended.


	3. Mirrored Lapse

He pretended things were still the way they’d been, on occasion. He didn’t sleep constantly, waking at odd hours with no determination of night and day. He had no interest in which it was, and he stayed in the room with his coffin. It was home, every dank, wretched inch of it. He’d earned that.

He’d been a fool.

He shouldn’t have stepped into the issue that brought him to this, no matter how wrong he saw it to be. If he’d really had to be so determined to do it... he shouldn’t have been so up front. A Turk, as he himself had once said, never survived long as a fool. He’d seen enough people die in stupid ways that he’d made it a motto.

One, apparently, he felt the need to test out himself. 

But, no matter the way things worked out, he still sometimes wondered at himself. He looked at his motives and considered. He even found himself building a sort of twisted fantasy world he could step into at will.

It had, he found, become incredibly easy to wish up an image of who he had been: neat, clean, too youthful, dressed in fine blues. In contrast, what he’d become was a ruin, tangled, twisted, appropriate.

He’d never once woken to that memory fantasy of an image. Not before today. But apparently, today was destined to be unique. The figure looked as though he’d been there for some time. The room was tampered with, small things moved from where they belonged, if, indeed, anything belonged anywhere in here. He certainly didn’t recall having done it himself but... 

An image was just an image, and it couldn’t become real.

“Stop thinking that way.”

The words made him twitch slightly, and he focused on the man’s face. It was definitely him as he used to be, but there was no way he could be real.

“I’m not incorporeal.”

“You can’t be real. Unless, of course, you’re a clone.”

“I’m not.” The short-haired figure moved silently across the room to where he was sitting in his coffin and stood next to it, staring down at him. “I’m you. Or, as you like to think of me, the fool you used to be.”

“But you’re just part of my imagination.” He tilted his head back, eyes narrowing slightly at the figure.

“Not really. There are some things you really don’t know about what you can do anymore. How old would you say you are now?”

“Late thirties.”

“Fifty-seven actually. If you had a mirror you would see you look younger, not older than me as you like to think you do. The demons did you a service there.”

“What are you, if you’re not just a figment of my imagination?”

“Me? I’m a guide.” He leaned, fingers brushing just under the headband as he smirked. “I’m things you keep trying to forget about.”

He twitched at the warmth in the man’s hand, not expecting to be able to feel that touch so vividly. “I haven’t tried to forget anything.”

“Yes, you have.” The tapered fingers, darker by a fraction than the skin they were touching, moved down to grasp his chin, red eyes fixed firmly on red. “You tried to forget that you were a killer well before you had the demons in you. You tried to forget that it was your job to help ruin good people. You tried to forget how monstrous you can be if you just _tried_. And all of that... well, that was all before you even _tried_ to save that little baby who had nothing to do with you, no matter how badly you wanted his mother to be yours. No matter how badly you wanted to be a hero for once. It would be easy for me to keep listing. You’re quite good at denying things you have no desire to see.”

“You make it sound as though I deny what I was before I became this. I don’t. I haven’t forgotten, I haven’t put it to the side.”

“And you deem this your sin and all that, yes? You consider the demons fitting punishment because you never regretted anything you had to do.” He released him, stepping back and spreading his arms in a motion of ‘look here’. “Why do you insist on staying in this place Mr. Valentine? Why do you insist on separating you from me?”

“I do nothing of the kind.” The words were a growl, but the demons were, for once, nowhere under the skin waiting. Was this a dream then? Something his mind was thrusting on him?

“You created a fantasy where you weren’t your past anymore. You can’t do something that is exactly that any more completely.”

“I’m dreaming.”

“And your subconscious wants to tell you you’re a monstrous freak? Hardly. Nice try. More like... your past would like you to stop forgetting the lessons it had to teach you.”

“Lessons like not sticking my nose where it doesn’t belong?”

“No.” He laughed, looking at the figure in red with just a hint of contempt. “No. Lessons like not ignoring something you can fix until you can’t fix it anymore. I find it amazing that you abandoned that child you tried to die for. Is that what your hope was? Dying to put away the heartache?”

“No.” He got out of the coffin, claws digging into the sides as he did, leaving furrows on that side as he stood.

“No? Then why are you still here hmm? Don’t you have something out there you should be up to?”

He met the mocking gaze evenly, and his lips twisted, slightly bitter. “No.”

“Then maybe you should find something to do until you do. You certainly won’t remember down here.”

“I would.”

“No, you wouldn’t. You’d miss everything.”

There was a moment of silence as the two held gazes, and not long after, there was a swirl of red before the man was gone.

“And now, my child will be fine.” The doppelganger left behind laughed quietly, then vanished in a swirl of sickly green.

* * *

It was months before anything happened, but when it did, it was horrible. It was also, in a strange sort of way, cathartic. Nibelheim had been the bane of many things to him. It had been a start of horror, and an end of a lifestyle. It had been the end of comfort and security and _power_. 

And Sephiroth had nicely destroyed it for him. He didn’t see that until after everything though, having fled to tuck himself up in a strangely comfortable niche out of sight of the reactor workers. It was a good place to hear news, and a good place to know and hear that Sephiroth had come to the town he’d been born, finally. It was also a good place to wait, because honestly, what would he tell the boy? 

‘I failed you as a baby because I wasn’t good enough for your mother’? No. He’d wait, and if no situation called for him, he would follow the boy when he left. 

It seemed, however that that wasn’t the case. The fighting above proved that, being loud, rife with yelling and anger, and, finally, a fall of distinctive pale hair.

That, at least, he’d been able, and willing, to help with. The man wasn’t fully conscious when he was grabbed, obviously stunned, and that was enough for him to get him pinned and out of sight as people above started to swarm.

Only once all of the ruckus from above was finished did he take his new charge from the reactor. And only then did he see the carnage wrought over the town.

It did not, however, stop him from leaving. He had wounds to tend on a charge he’d long since abandoned. 

Everyone else could fend for themselves.


	4. Turned Away

He had questioned, distrust that shouldn’t have been there, flames that shouldn't have been going, all of it was more than vivid and it shouldn't have happened. But it was happening. He didn't know where Zack had gotten to, he'd been gone before the carnage, and asking had only brought about answers of one SOLDIER behind it, the General.

Checking on his mother had revealed her dead.

So many were going to be dead at the end of this night and the entire thing shouldn't have happened! Looking for Tifa had left him chilled, even amid the mess of horror he couldn't fix, simply because she had gone the same way Sephiroth had. After the man had done this.

At this rate he wasn't going to have anyone left.

Those alive had things as in hand as they could get, so he started after those who had gone ahead, quick on his feet and hoping that all this wasn't too late. Those in the town could take care of each other, and he wouldn't make them any difference, but he was needed out there. 

He wanted to find Zack, the two of them deal with this, but he hadn't seen the man, still didn't see the man as he moved through the trees and caught a bright glint of metal on the ground. His blade, but not the man. 

If anything, Cloud felt colder, even as he crouched to curl his fingers around the hilt of the huge blade. Zack wasn't the type to toss his sword off to leave it lying around in the forest, and there were no signs to indicate where he might have gone from here. It left the only possibility as the path that he was already following, and he shuddered at the idea of his friends dealing with the General unarmed. 

His gun wouldn't be effective enough for this, he was sure of it, but it could be. Nodding to himself, he made sure that the gun wasn't going anywhere and hefted the blade up to his back before starting up the mountain again. It was heavy, but no worse than hiking packs he'd dealt with before. 

He just wasn't sure he could do anything with it, so he'd have to find out when he got there and _did_ something about what was going on.

It wasn't as though he didn't have people to avenge.


End file.
